Chloe Sullivan – Sidekick To The Stars
by seriousish
Summary: The first thing Davis said after showing Chloe that scalpels couldn’t cut him was “So, I decided to be a superhero.” There were probably a number of sensible responses to that. In general, sentences that were not “Do you have a costume?”
1. Chapter 1

The first thing Davis said after showing Chloe that scalpels couldn't cut him was "So, I decided to be a superhero."

There were probably a number of sensible responses to that. Counter-arguments. Offers of good psychiatric help. Mute nods. And, in general, sentences that were not "Do you have a costume?"

Admittedly, a certain amount of backstory is required to explain how one goes from the avoidance that is natural with a confession of undying love one week before your wedding… especially when said confession doesn't come from who you're getting married to… but when the second participant in your doodled stick-figure porn works at a hospital, and you're in the business of meteor-infected who tend to either go to hospitals or put people in hospitals, the only way you can guarantee not to meet is to do a good job of holding a hand in front of your face as you run through the corridors. Unfortunately, Chloe had done a bad job.

"Chloe Sullivan! Just the blonde ambition I was looking for!" Davis had said, rushing to her side. Her right side. "Why are you holding your hand in front of the left side of your face?"

"It's good luck. For the wedding."

"Ah. I suppose you need all the luck you can get." Davis winced. "Okay, sorry, not at all why I've been looking for you. I need to show you something."

"If it's your dick in a box, that stopped being funny months ago."

"No, this is deep-blue Isis Foundation stuff. Strictly professional."

This led to them going into a supply closet, him taking out a scalpel, and him confessing his ambition to be the next Peter Parker. And her asking if I had a costume.

"Not as such, but I drew a sketch." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I was figuring I would get a professional costumer to do it, but through a third party… you know, like a hostage exchange or something. So he couldn't identify me when I show up on the evening news punching out the Green Goblin, chasing the Black Cat…"

"Uh-huh." Chloe took a look at the drawing. "So, you just got done with watching the Matrix trilogy back to back to back?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Didn't you see The Incredibles? What kind of idiot wears a cape?"

"That's actually a duster… it's not a Matrix thing," he said defensively. "It's a Firefly thing."

"Okay, that's worth some points. But, really, skintight black leather?"

He leaned forward. "Distraction."

"For easily frightened cows?"

"Getting stabbed through the chest by your cousin has made me slightly defensive. The way I see it, if any Baroness von Supervillain tries to end my never-ending battle, the sight of my goods will distract them long enough for me to soundly restrain them."

"Well, I'm glad you've put some thought into this." Chloe headed for the door. "Tell me how it goes."

"Hey, I need your help!"

"You seem to have everything well in hand."

"Look, I've been on patrol… had an old winter coat and a Zorro mask lying around… the only crime I found was some littering. And maybe solicitation charges for the one or two people who assumed I was a hustler. But you could point to the real bad guys! Corporate villains, organized crime, the guys who made Max Payne…"

"Would you stop joking? You're asking me to sanction you risking your life!"

He grew a bit serious. "So you do care. Kinda hard to tell from here."

She took another look at the sketch. "I know a guy who might be able to help."

* * *

Rob Field was a straight man. In point of fact, he loved the pussy. You could just ask him if you weren't sure. But because meteor rocks had given him the power of instantly being able to compare fashions against the cultural zeitgeist, he had started to doubt his masculinity. It wasn't the same level of problem that most meteor-empowered dealt with, but Chloe tried to feel compassion for him all the same.

"Doable. Very doable," he said, looking at the drawing. "Are you sure this has to be leather? Leather doesn't breathe. I think maybe if we throw in some nylon…"

"Just make it look nice," Chloe said.

"Okay. Hey, after this, do you wanna watch Commando? I was just about to start if when you came in."

"No thanks."

* * *

"Why are there so many pouches?" Davis asked as he strapped another belt onto his thigh, like he was going to be carrying a Glock around. "I don't remember drawing this many pouches. What am I going to keep in all these pouches? Gum?"

"All your Bond gadgets, I guess." Chloe was holding Davis's duster, which had yet more pouches sewn into it.

"I don't have any Bond gadgets. You know, someone is going to ring my cell-phone and I am going to spend all night trying to find which pouch I put it in."

"You'd better see your cell on vibrate. It's only fair to the forces of evil. Oh, here." She held out an earpiece. "We won't be communicating by phone."

"Thank God. You'd use up all my minutes." He wound it into his ear and down his collar into a pouch, which also contained a mic.

"See? You do have a Bond gadget." She backed up to the Isis Foundation's computer, where a microphone was waiting. "Testing, one two."

"I've got you." He turned and let her help her into the coat. "So, what's on tonight's agenda? Drug-runners? Gun-runners? Some third type of runners who are evil?"

"Marketing executive."

"What, did he come up with a really annoying jingle?"

Chloe tossed him the file. "His name is Walter Priski and his son got into a fight with Melvin Smith. They go to the same school. Melvin's mom is meteor-empowered, and she passed on her powers to him. It's the ability to induce vertigo, and Melvin only used it to get out of the fight and run for it. But since then, the Smiths have been getting threatening phone calls, rocks thrown at their windows, anti-meteor graffiti…"

Davis nodded. "Right. Talk jingle-boy into not being such a douche. No problem."

* * *

Davis piled into the backseat of Chloe's VW. "Drive."

"What'd you do?"

There was frenzied barking.

"Drive!"

They peeled off just as some Rottweilers made it to the sidewalk.

Davis pulled off his half-mask. "Okay, next time we do this, you check to see if the bad guy owns dogs!"

"I'll add Humane Society to my list of hacks… but according to the firearms registry, he didn't have a gun, right?"

"No…" Davis rubbed his head. "His wife had a frying pan, though."

"Poor baby…"

"Hey, just because I'm invulnerable, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."

"Yes… deep down… where you're soft, like a woman."

He finger-flicked the back of her neck. "He looked good and scared. I doubt he'll be giving the Smiths anymore trouble. I lose points for dignified exit, but not bad for our first time."

"'Our'?" Chloe repeated dubiously.

"Yes. You're my sidekick."

Chloe laughed. "What? Like… Bucky and Captain America?"

"Or Toro and the Human Torch."

"Nerd."

"Admit it, you're geeking out about being my sidekick."

"I am not your sidekick."

"Partner?" He leaned across the passenger seat. "Senior associate?"

"This was crazy."

"You know what else sounded crazy the first time someone suggested it? Quantum physics."

Chloe looked over at him, mainly to see if he was keeping a straight face. He smiled at her and punched her arm.

"C'mon, partner, let's get some drive-thru to celebrate. I'm buying."

"It's eleven o'clock."

"Past your bedtime?"

"No, it's just… Jimmy will be worried."

"So give him a call, tell him you're busy at work."

"I don't like lying to him."

"So tell him you're with a friend."

"I would prefer to just head home. I'm tired." She faked a yawn. "See? I need my beauty sleep."

"Not from where I'm sitting."

Chloe turned on the radio. A country music ballad filled the small car.

Davis slumped back in his seat and began changing into street clothes. Chloe didn't look at the rear-view mirror… much.

They parked on the curb.

"Want me to walk you to your door?" Davis asked.

"I don't think Jimmy would appreciate that."

"You gonna structure your whole life around what the walking inferiority complex likes?"

"You gonna spend your whole life wanting what you can't have?"

She got out of the car. So did he. They walked up to the front door.

"This is immature," Chloe said.

"If he really trusted you, he wouldn't be bothered by you being out with a guy… even someone who's hopelessly in love with you."

Chloe sighed and put her key in the lock, but she barely had time to rattle it before the door swung open. Jimmy smiled at her, glowered a little at Davis.

"Hey, Chlo. Dave. What're you two doing out so late?"

"Floral arrangements. I was helping her pick."

Jimmy frowned. "I thought we already settled on the floral arrangements."

Chloe started to answer, but Davis beat her to the punch. "Yeah, but then Clark thought they looked ugly, so Chloe decided to reevaluate her options."

Jimmy's eyebrows scrunched up most unattractively. "I like the floral arrangement."

"Of course, the floral arrangement is fine, Jimmy," Chloe assured him. "Just last-second jitters."

"You know, cold feet?" Davis added.

"Well, I saved you some pizza," Jimmy said, beating a hasty retreat. "I'll go nuke it in the microwave."

"Thanks, Jimmy." Chloe moved to follow him, but Davis leaned against the doorframe, barring her path.

"You didn't tell him."

Chloe ducked under his arm. "There's nothing to tell. And that wasn't funny."

"It was kinda funny."

"No it wasn't."

"I can see you trying not to laugh."

"I am so very far from laughing right now."

"You so want to giggle. The minute you shut the door, you're going to laugh like a hyena."

"Good night, Davis."

She shut the door.

Jimmy came back a moment later. "What's so funny, Chlo?"

"Nothing." She turned to see his offering. Half a slice of pepperoni pizza on a paper plate.

"I got hungry," he said plaintively.

"It's fine. I'm watching my weight anyway. Gotta…" she pumped her arm unenthusiastically, "squeeze into that wedding dress."


	2. Davis Bloom – Hero To A Select Few

"Dark alleyways," Davis muttered. "Why is it always dark alleyways?"

Chloe had taken to running his little operation like Professor X to Cerebro. Though she had a lot more hair, not to mention cleavage, than ol' Xavier. Davis would take all the help he could get, even if she wasn't in a wheelchair.

"Okay, got something. I checked the Humane Society record for the Whitakers and there was an investigation for animal cruelty."

"Do you want a clean kill or to send a message?" Davis asked in his best Bond James Bond accent. Some empty beer bottles clattered off to Davis's side. He whirled, fists raised, but it was just a cat. "Clocktower, you mind skipping to the end?"

"They say there was a methane leak, but that's impossible. I think what we're dealing with is a metahuman who drains life force."

"Sounds like my ex-wife."

"You've never been married."

"Offering to fix that?"

"I don't think Jeremy Whitaker meant to hurt anyone. By all accounts, he's a happy, healthy member of Generation Y."

"So were the Columbine kids."

"Do you trust me or not? He's just a scared kid, probably exposed to meteor rocks as an infant. Don't go in guns blazing."

Davis nodded grimly. "Okay, but if you're wrong, it's my funeral."

"I'll deliver a very moving eulogy."

Davis tapped off his line to Chloe and walked out into the open. "Jeremy? I'm not here to hurt you. I'd just like to talk." He was greeted with silence. "I know you didn't mean to hurt your family. But they're at the hospital, worried about you."

A voice came out of the darkness. "You're lying! I saw them wither!"

Davis held up his hands. "I have a friend who's like you. She healed them. I can call them, if you'd like."

The voice downshifted into a piteous whisper. "Okay."

Davis pulled out his cell-phone and quick-dialed Chloe. "Put me through to the Whittakers." He set the mobile down and slid it into the shadows. He saw its lit-up screen travel upwards and illuminate the side of a stubbled face.

"Mom?" He snapped the phone shut after a moment, fighting back tears. "She's alive!"

A red blur shot between them and Jeremy was suddenly airborne, screaming, windmilling. He traveled thirty feet, hit the wall, fell from there and landed on a dumpster.

"Jeremy!" Davis ran to his side. "Don't move." He tapped his earpiece. "Clocktower, I need an ambulance. Possible internal bleeding…" he finished shining his penlight in Jeremy's eyes. "Definite concussion. Jesus!"

He looked in the direction the red blur had traveled, stirring up old newspapers in its wake.

"What was that?"

* * *

Davis handed off a copy of Jeremy's chart to Chloe in the hospital cafeteria. Neither of them felt much like eating, so Davis's lunch tray grew cold between them.

"Think Isis can help him?"

"With the powers, sure. The internal bleeding, I leave to the HMO."

"Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

Chloe rubbed her temple. "In my nightmares, maybe. But whatever it is, hasn't made a very good first impression on me."

"Got you in a vendetta kind of mood?"

"You're the superhero."

"We're the superhero. If you hadn't gotten me there, I couldn't have done anything."

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts. I have a honeymoon coming up. Niagara Falls."

Davis bit the inside of his cheek. "How… conventional."

"Maybe I like conventional."

"Maybe." Davis leaned back. "But you don't."

"Sup, niggas!" Lois sat down beside Chloe. "You gonna eat that? I skipped breakfast."

Chloe slid the lunch tray her way and stood up. "I was just leaving. Blog isn't going to update itself."

"Blog?"

Chloe smiled at Lois. "Yeah, didn't you hear? Print media is dead."

Lois waved her off as she left. "Pfft." Then she noticed the way Davis was gripping his plastic spork. "Why so serious, cowboy?"

Davis's eyebrows made a big for what was left of his hairline. "You seriously don't remember?"

"Oh, did we…" Lois pushed her forefinger through a circle of her thumb and other forefinger.

Davis let go of the spork. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"How was I?"

Davis held his hand flat and waved it a little from side to side. "Eh."

"Huh. Usually I'm a rowdy drunk. Must've been _really_ blotto. But I can see how that could be awkward, you having the hots for my cousin and all." She took a bite of sausage link. "Mmm! I know all the jokes about hospital food, but this is really good!"

"Lois, you cannot tell anyone about this!"

"Relax, your 'secret' is safe with me. Does she know?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Oh, the usual way. I confessed my undying love for her and she shot me down like a Messerschmitt over London." He grabbed Lois's Jell-o cup and miserably dug into it.

Lois was just sympathetic enough to let him get away with it. "That figures. Chloe is still stuck on what we might call the 'ugly duckling' stage. She thinks she's a bloated weirdo, not noticing she's grown into a smaller, blonder version of me." Lois licked her finger and touched it to her chest, making a sizzling sound. "Therefore, she's so grateful for the attention of a boy… even one who doesn't even wait for marriage to do adulterous… that she doesn't notice he's only a 'prize' in the Cracker Jack box sense of the word."

Davis reared up, intensely interested. "So you don't think she loves Jimmy?"

"Clearly not!"

"And I am? That why you're helping me?"

"Yeah, she's a freaky girl and she needs someone like you to be her boytoy. And there's no way I'm letting her get married before me."

"Someone like me?"

"You know. Creepy, but in a sexy kind of way."

"I'm creepy?"

"In a classically-trained British villain actor sort of way. You're Alan Rickman."

"I don't want to be Alan Rickman!"

"Hey, I don't decide these things. Say, long as I'm here, how about a man-on-the-street opinion on the Metropolitan?"

"The what?"

"The who! EMTs on the scene report a guy in a gimp suit giving first aid to the Whittaker kid."

"Gimp suit… the Metropolitan? That's a horrible name. No one will ever use that."

"That's what they said about Red Cape, our last costumed adventurer."

"Superhero."

"What and ever."

* * *

"Clark, I have great news!" Chloe said, helping herself to one of the Talon's coffee dispensers.

"Jimmy stopped using your razor for bikini area shaves?"

"Even better! It's like I've found my calling in life!" She put extra whipped cream on her latte. "I've always wanted to be a journalist to help people, but with the blog, people are sending in tips about metahumans. And with the Isis Foundation and Metro, I can help them! It's like I'm a reporter by day, superhero by night.

"Wait, you're helping Metro the Metropolitan?" Clark frowned. "That sounds dangerous."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. And helping him… it just feels so right. I've thought my relationship with Jimmy was good, but this is better than sex!"

It occurred to Clark that Chloe didn't have a very good frame of reference. "So who is Metro?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes."

"So can I." Chloe bopped him on the shoulder. "Clark, we're still friends. Nothing could make me forget that."

"You're talking like I'm jealous of this Cosmopolitan."

"Metropolitan."

"See? I couldn't care less."

* * *

"The Metropolitan?" Clark read from the Daily Planet. "FATHER, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?"

"Kal-El, you don't have to shout. I can turn back time, I can hear you if you use your indoor voice."

"Oh. Sorry." Clark waved the newspaper in the general direction of the disembodied AI. "This Metro is stealing all my thunder. Giving people hope, wearing a costume… that's supposed to be my job. I'm the Traveler!... not that anyone calls me that. How come he gets a kickass name like Metro and I'm just 'the red and blue blur'. That's not even a name, that's a description."

"My son, perhaps now is the time to start a disguise."

"Like a mask?"

"Or a fake scar, a wig, Magic Marker freckles… why must I think of everything? I'm _dead!_"

"Chloe would know what to do. That's another thing! He stole my sidekick!"

"You did wipe her memory. Even by my complex standards, that was a dick move."

"Oh, when it's something stupid you want to do, like rule the world or let my friends die, you're all gung-ho about it, but when I do something stupid, you can't say… no?"

"You never listen. All the time I warn you about dire consequences, but do you ever listen? No, you go and pout in your barn."

"I don't pout!"

"You sulk. And cry sometimes."

"I do not!"

"You cry like someone kicked you in the vagina," Jor-El intoned sonorously. "You're getting misty right now!"

"I wish I had never been shot through the ice-cold vacuum of space to land on Earth!"

"You won't speak to me in that voice! I am an artificial representation of your father!"

"You're not my father!"

"That's what I just said!"


	3. Lana Lang – Friend To All Children Ever

**Note**: This fic has been censored to conform to 's rigorous decency standards. A sex scene irrelevant to the plot has been removed. This fic is now 37% shorter than has been posted elsewhere.

"Chloe, it's too dangerous."

"Clark, people do it all the time. Just because you don't approve—"

"You could die!"

"Oh, honestly."

"People get sick and _die_! You don't have abilities, it's too much of a risk."

"I have had sex before, Clark, and it has not killed me!"

"Yet."

"If you weren't not in an insane asylum, I'd ask if you were my mother. I am having sex on my honeymoon. Deal with it!"

"Fine. Don't listen to me. But would you listen to Hivy the Abstinence Clown?"

Davis walked in. "Hey Clark, Chloe."

"Oh my God, I thought you were a clown preaching abstinence for a second."

"That's an…. Easy mistake to make… I guess."

Clark put a hand on his shoulder. "Davis, you look like someone who's injured himself having sex—"

"I suppose that's marginally better than being an abstinence clown."

"Tell Chloe it's a bad idea to have sex with Jimmy."

"Chloe, it's a bad—"

"Oh, shut it."

"But what if you catch something? I know when I think of oily discharge and a burning groinal sensation, I think Jimmy."

"Hey, he dated my cousin!" Clark yelled.

"Wow, first your cousin, than your best friend. Are you sure he isn't trying to tell you something?"

"Jimmy's _not_ gay!"

"The women's underwear is just for comfort," Chloe reiterated.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stay and guess boxers, briefs, or G-strings, I have to take Chloe away from all this… to the cake-testing, remember?"

Chloe slapped her forehead. "I didn't. Clark, Davis agreed to give me a second opinion when Jimmy was busy."

"Trying to find out who's buried in Grant's Tomb," Davis added facetiously. "Could be the scoop of the century."

Chloe elbowed him, regretted it.

Clark's eyebrows scrunched up as if sensing danger. "Chloe, are you sure you should be tooling around with another man on the week of your wedding?"

Davis put his hand on his heart. "Clark, let me assure you that my only reason for going is pie."

They left. It took Clark a minute to stand bolt upright and say "Wait a minute! Is wedding cake pie?"

* * *

Chloe walked alongside Davis, intoning in a deep voice "'My only reason for going is pie.' You're evil. You are a secret, evil villain."

"What? I was just thinking that after we foil the armies of darkness, we could get some pecan pie from the Pie Hole and discuss the work of Sylvia Platt."

She pushed him sideways. "If only your adoring public knew that Metro, the idol of millions, was a raging sex fiend."

"Oh, I don't think the female fans would mind. Or some of the men." He glanced at her with that intensity that always made Chloe finger her engagement ring. "Would you?"

"So, have you made any progress on my forgetfulness?"

"Sorry. None of the tests came back positive. It's weird, it scans like ordinary forgetfulness, but reads like amnesia…" He noticed how dour Chloe had become. "Hey, maybe it's not all that bad. Think of all the wonderful things you could forget. Disaster Movie. Twilight. The last season of Heroes."

"Oh, I hate that Elle, she puts my teeth on edge." She smiled and leaned against him. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up."

"My pleasure. Anything for that smile." He kissed the side of her temple. She pushed some distance between them.

"You shouldn't do that. In a week, I'll be married."

"Then in a week, I won't have the chance to do this."

She should've pushed him away. She should've told him to stop. But she didn't want to.

They kissed.

"You know," she told him, when they parted, "I can't even remember my first kiss? I know it wasn't with Jimmy."

"Do you love him?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. But what if I get my memory back and he's the love of my life?" She took a step back.

Davis just stood there. "What if you marry him and he's not?"

* * *

"No, Lois, for the last time, I'm not having a bachelorette party. Jimmy would worry. No, I don't care where he went last night. La la la, not listening! It's the day of my wedding, just get down here. And wear the bridesmaid dress I picked out. Yeah, well, today pink _is_ your color. So what if Clark will be there, why should he care—yeah, great, hang up, it's a fifteen minute drive and when I have you cornered, I am not above enhanced interrogation techniques." Chloe hung up. "Why does getting married turn people into such…"

"Secretive liars?"

"Lana!" Chloe hugged her friend as best she could without wrinkling her bridal dress. The effect was more of a chokehold than an embrace. "You look as lovely as you are smart."

"Thanks! I just shut down one of Lex's facilities in Death Valley, beating up thirty-two highly-trained guards and hacking the state-of-the-art defense grid, so since I had the weekend free, I decided to pop down here and wish my bestie luck on her special day. Do you plan on riding away on Arabians with pure white coats like Lex and I did on our day of matrimony?"

"No, actually Jimmy managed to borrow his mom's minivan, so we'll be using that."

"Just like you always pictured it!" Lana cried out.

Jimmy poked his head through the door. "Chlo, who picked out the cake, it is dee…lish… who's your friend?"

"This is Lana Lang."

Jimmy gasped. "THE Lana Lang? I'd heard of your legendary business acumen, your famed resistance to torture, and your role in translating the Dead Sea Scrolls for real, but I never imagined you'd be so beautiful."

"Oh, this old thing. I just put it on when I don't care how I look. Do you like it?"

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Chloe coughed politely. Then not so politely. By the time Davis came in, she was hacking.

"Chloe, you should get that cough looked at. Nice dress, though."

"Davis!" Chloe gave him her most dress-wrinkling hug. "Thanks for coming. I know how hard this is on you."

Davis patted the back of her backless dress. "Oh, it's easier than you might think. Except for next to your thigh…"

"That's my taser. You know, in case some freak attacks."

Davis smirked. "Chloe, I hardly think some monstrous abomination is going to crash your wedding." He glanced at Lana. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, that's…" Chloe winced. "Lana Lang."

He shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

She held onto his hand, smiling expectantly. Davis looked around to see if the others saw anything odd in this, but they were all waiting anxiously.

"I was married to Lex Luthor," she said brightly.

"Oh, yeah, now I remember." Davis's eyes widened in shock. "You tried to kill your husband in a plane crash!"

"Oh, no, no, I've never tried to kill Lex… recently. Oh, did you know my parents were killed by a meteor when I was little?"

"No. That's too bad."

"It is, it is. But I've resigned myself to going through life without ever seeing the adoring faces of… umm… er… hmmm…. 'Mom and Dad.'"

"I'm not sure, but I have this notion that my parents were alien warlords who expect me to destroy the world."

Lana let go of his hand.

"So, would anyone mind getting my bags? Nothing too heavy, just some dresses Raphael Dupree designed with me in mind and a Hattori Hanzo sword I plan to use to get revenge on Lex for killing my imaginary baby."

"I'll go!" Jimmy said. "You can tell me more about your dead parents; I've _always_ been fascinated by the subject."

"Oh, I talk to my dead parents all the time," Lana said as she and Jimmy left Davis and Chloe alone. "Sometimes, they whisper things to me! Secret things…"

"So, your friend seems nice," Davis said after a pause.

* * *

Clark watched the wedding cake being wheeled in. He was a little disappointed that Chloe had refused his suggestion to have the wedding in his barn, especially when they had so many lovely memories of watching Lana through a telescope. Well, he had memories, both because he'd been the one who remembered Lana changed clothes (and went to the bathroom) like clockwork, and because he'd wiped her memory. Maybe if he gave more people brain damage, the divorce rate would drop!

The doors opened, the wedding march played, and Chloe walked into the church. Clark beamed. She looked lovely in her white dress, although it must've been very heavy. She was walking awfully slow.

Gabe was walking her down the aisle. Clark didn't like that. He'd offered to give her away right after he'd offered to let her be wed in his barn. Before she could consider it, though, she'd remembered no one had tied cans to the back of Jimmy's mom's minivan. It was a shame. Chloe's father obviously didn't love her enough to erase parts of her life.

Chloe reached the altar and, as the Phil Collins song Jimmy had specifically chosen for the blessed event played, the crowd waited for the groom. And waited.

And waited.

"Don't look at me," Davis said, looking around nervously.

"Don't worry, I'll handle it. Clark snapped his suspenders. "I'm no Lionel Luthor, but I can make sure a wedding goes off without a hitch. Though, umm, no one here is pregnant, right?"

"I'd better come along," Davis said.

"You don't think I can handle a case of cold feet?"

"Well, Clark, it requires a degree of tact, sensitivity, and insight." He walked off.

"What are you getting at?"

* * *

"Oh yes!" Lana cried. "Ram your X into my tight X! Get your X all over my dirty X!"

"Really?" Jimmy asked. "Chloe never let me X anywhere near her X! She said it smelled too much like engine oil."

"I don't care! I want you to X my X like a mofo and X my X like you're playing a challenging game of Canasta!"

"Oh my God!" Clark cried, halfway through the door.

Davis peeked over Clark's shoulder. "Holy X, she's XXXX like a groundhog hit by a car XXXX blood relation XXX nail polish XXX XXX phone cord XXX probably illegal in this state!"

"Oh God, Chloe." Davis rubbed at his temple. "How am I going to tell her?"

"Lana, how could you?" Clark demanded, gazing intently at her. "Was it Jimmy? Did he force you to this horrible decision like Lex did?"

Lana gazed at him intently. "I walked down a dark path, but I've turned away from it. I can _trust_ him. He has no secrets from me, isn't that right Jules?"

"Jimmy."

"Whatever."

"I kept secrets from you to protect you," Clark said as he gazed at her intently. "Everything I do is to protect you, when I wear deodorant it's to protect you. When I put the toilet seat down, it's to protect you."

"Can you protect me from _having my heart broken?_" Lana gazed at Clark intently.

Davis snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I've thought of a way to call off the wedding without embarrassing Chloe!"

"What is it?" Jimmy asked.

Davis just smiled.

* * *

"Chloe, you can't marry Jimmy! He just fell down a flight of stairs. Onto some broken glass. Atop a Rottweiler. With rabies."


End file.
